


Let's start a riot

by shortstack (nimbleCustardlegs)



Series: Clint/Vladimir [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Sorry, M/M, Not really though, haha is now, i'm not even sure this ship is even actually a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 16:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4711949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimbleCustardlegs/pseuds/shortstack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Alternatively titled 'Cats are the best matchmakers')<br/>The first time Clint Barton meets Vladimir Ranskahov, it's in the ally-way he's hiding in after a particularity difficult mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cats are the best matchmakers

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops, I wrote this on accident after a long conversation about this ship with another friend. I ship this now and I'm unashamed of it. Hope you all enjoy, and even leave a Kudos/comment if you think it was worthy! :>

The first time Clint Barton came across Vladimir, his hearing aids had cut out. The man was trying to speak to him, getting more and more frustrated, while Clint kept shaking his head. Eventually, the tiny little white cat he had on his shoulder boxed him on the ear. Stopping in the middle of his tirade, he turned to look at the cat, who repeated the action. It was only then that the man seemed to realise, and he turned back to Clint, raising his hand in a vague ‘sorry’ motion, before turning on his heel. The cats that had been settled pretty much everywhere all followed him. Despite himself, Clint found himself checking out the man as he walked away. He was kind of attractive. Okay, really attractive. But Clint knew that he wouldn’t be interested. Who would be?

As Vladimir walked away, he forced himself not to look back. The man was really quite attractive. Vladimir had never hidden his sexuality from anyone. Not that most bothered to look too close. Who would want him anyway? The only ones that truly accepted him were his cats… But he could feel the other man’s eyes on him as he walked off. Learning ASL couldn’t hurt. It would be useful. It was not because of that cute deaf man, not at all. 

The second time Clint Barton came across Vladimir, it was in the ally that he was laying low in. He was wearing his hearing aids this time, and they were working again. He heard a cat meowing somewhere close. He just ignored it, until the meowing cat trotted into his ally. The little grey thing was followed, to Clint’s surprise, by the man he had met two weeks before. The man’s eyes widened, and then narrowed. And then he raised his hands and signed. It was messy and shaky and so perfect that Clint couldn’t help but grin. After all, he hadn’t expected this guy to be interested in him one bit. 

The third time they met, at least, was planned. Clint had told him out his hearing aids, and they had talked for a little while, until the man, Vladimir, Clint remembered, had to take a phone call and then leave. They made plans to meet back in the same ally-way. He was last to get there, and he found the man half-asleep under a mountain of cats. They were everywhere. Clint was a dog person, always had been, but he could admit that cats were okay. (Totally not because the cute Russian with the scar loved them). He sat down, and one of the cats meowed loudly. The Russian jerked awake, rubbing his eyes and mumbling something. Then he caught sight of Clint and smiled a little.   
When Clint had begun teaching him, Vladimir only felt a moment of hesitation before sitting to face him. He was trying to mimic the hand movement Clint had made, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, when he felt warm hands on his own, gently guiding them. He jerked away, shuffling backwards. At the look of hurt on Clint’s face that he almost missed, he slowly shuffled forwards again and put his hands in Clint’s. “Show me again?” The grin on Clint’s face was totally worth it. And if his hands were shaking a little bit, well, neither of them mentioned it. 

Anatoly was suspicious. Vladimir was disappearing far more often than he used to, and it was worrying the older man. So, obviously, he followed his brother. A few of those cats appeared from dark corners to join him. They were everywhere, and all of them were loyal to Vlad. Anatoly was almost sure he had more cats than they had people loyal to them. It didn’t really bother him. It just meant he would have to drop back a little more than he usually would. Eventually, he came to the ally Vladimir had gone down. What he found surprised him. Vladimir was sitting with another man (blonde, Toly noted, quite short from what he could see) and had his head resting on Vlad’s shoulder. Vladimir hated touch usually. He couldn’t work it out… And he spend a good five minutes trying, until one of the cat’s eyes fixed on him and he had to bolt. 

Vladimir was not nervous. Not one bit. He was not. He was just… Okay, yes, he was a little bit. He had spent weeks making sure he had the signs exactly right. He didn’t want to fuck up this, it was important. This wouldn’t be one of those ‘lets fuck and then never speak again.’ He would make sure of that. He didn’t know if he would be able to handle it. After a moment, he scooped up one of his cats, (A female tabby kitten he had named Lily) and gently put her on his shoulders. She acted as a makeshift, purring scarf and it made Vladimir less nervous, somehow.   
When he got to their ally-way, Vladimir was sure his heart would explode out of his chest. He and Clint exchanged greetings and then, with a small flush on his cheeks, he gently took out Clint’s hearing aids and signed, almost perfectly, would you get coffee with me? And Clint stopped, making Vladimir want to go and crawl back into his cat infested home. And then he grabbed the back of Vlad’s head and kissed him. Hard. It made Vladimir stop for a moment, and it was kind of embarrassing until he managed to get his wits back and kissed back. Of course I will, idiot. Signed Clint when they pulled away. 

Vladimir had no idea where he was going. The nut in the mask had burnt his wound closed, but it still hurt like hell. He was stumbling down the mostly empty streets, hands clenched on his side. Blood was still dripping from his nose, and the scar on his eye felt tight. He staggered and had to lean against the wall, cursing. After a few moments, he forced himself upright. He felt more blood leak through his shirt. He swore. It had opened up again, and that meant he was losing even more blood. He felt faint, his head was swimming. But he didn’t stop, he couldn’t. If he stopped, he wouldn’t start again. It took him several seconds to realise where he was. The tower. Clint’s tower. He managed to get through the door and into the elevator before he collapsed onto the floor, exhausted. When it reached the floor he wanted, he dragged himself out and ended up curled on the floor, coughing up blood. Then the voice in the walls started speaking. In Russian. “Sir, you need to stay awake.” It said, and he groaned quietly. “Can’t…” He mumbled, coughing some more. After a few seconds, the voice began to speak. It didn’t matter exactly what he was saying, because it helped keep the Russian awake. It took fifteen minutes for Clint and someone else to get where he was, and he managed to look up. “Sorry… I get blood on your floor…” And then darkness engulfed his vision and the pain faded into a swirl of nothing.   
When he woke up, the pain was lessened. He blinked up at the white of the ceiling and focused on the burning in his side. When he felt slightly more centred, he looked around. In a plastic seat that looked very uncomfortable, Clint was sleeping. He felt a tiny smile perk at his lips, despite the pain. He slowly pulled the blanket off of himself, and found that there was bandages wrapped around his side. Was he in a hospital? He couldn’t really remember much, apart from someone speaking Russian and Clint’s worried face. He slowly sat up, hissing through his teeth. Damn, whoever gave him those painkillers hadn’t given him enough. Too bad, he had to piss. He slowly, slowly, struggled to his feet, and, leaning heavily on the wall, shuffled towards the open door that showed the bathroom.   
When Clint woke up, he had a crick in his neck. He slowly moved his head, muttering something, and then blinking. The bed was empty. He whipped his head around to see Vladimir shuffling along the wall. “What the fuck are you doing out of bed?” He snapped, going to support the other man to the bed. “Had to piss” Vlad gritted out, but allowed himself to be supported. He slid back into the bed, and then found he couldn’t stay awake much longer. His vision darkened and he slipped off into a fitful sleep, where he dreamed of explosions and headless bodies and devils in masks.

It took Vladimir two months to heal fully, and even then, he would have a nasty scar. It didn’t matter, though, it just added to the ones he already have, of which there were many. It was after this two months that it became impossible to keep Vladimir in the infirmary. He was bored, and a bored Vlad was never a good thing. Something Clint learnt was that Vladimir liked to complain when he was bored. “This room is shitty. Boring.” Or “Why can’t I leave?” Or more often “You are idiot for saving me.” Clint learnt to ignore this, but eventually, he had to let Vlad leave or suffer the wrath of the angry Russian. Not that Clint thought he would do anything to him. Probably just trash the room or something. But no, now it was time to introduce Vlad to the rest of the team. (Of course, Natasha knew. Natasha knows everything about Vlad, mainly because he had been crushing so hard for almost a year, but he wanted the other man to make the first move.)   
Eventually, after three days of them getting their shit together, Steve came down to the infirmary to look for Bruce (who wasn’t there. He wasn’t needed, and the entire room had basically become Vlad’s bedroom) and saw the back of Clint’s head in the window, laying on one of the beds. There was a pale arm around his waist and supporting his head. There was someone else in there. Steve frowned, but then turned and walked away. He would talk to Clint about it later.   
And he did. He confronted him about it in the kitchen. He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, and then asked Steve to go get the rest of the team. It took him a while to explain, but he managed. Of course, everyone was cool about it. Clint went away from that moment feeling better about his team than he had in a while.

Vladimir, though, wasn’t fairing as well. His brother was dead and gone, and it was his fault. All of it was his fault. He didn’t tell Clint about it, because he would think it was his fault, that he killed his brother, and make him leave. So he just stayed curled up in his blankets, wanting to be back with his cats, where he belonged. He hadn’t cried in a long time, not since his mother died. He hadn’t cried when he was being tortured in Siberia, he hadn’t cried when he lost vision in his right eye, he hadn’t cried even when he’d gotten shot. But now he couldn’t stop the burning in his eyes and the lump in his throat because his brother was dead and it was his fault. He killed him. The memory of seeing his brother’s body, headless, neck mutilated, had burnt into the back of his eyelids, and every time he closed his eyes that’s all he could see. He didn’t want to remember it, but he forced himself to, because it was his fault. They should have gone back to Moscow, like Anatoly had wanted. It had been him, had it not, that had told him they would go to America? It had been his own useless pride that had made Toly go to Fisk alone. And now, he was dead. And it was all Vladimir’s fault.


	2. These hips don't lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is angst, followed by a wad of fluff. I'm sorry. Again, hope you enjoy, and if you think it was worthy leave a Kudos/comment

_There was rage building in his gut as he steadied the gun, pointing it at the man lying on the floor. How easy would it be to pull the trigger? How simple? The man rolled over, and his face was that of his brothers. There was a line of blood around his neck. “Do it” he snarled, even as his head detached from his shoulders. And then Vladimir didn’t have control as he pulled the trigger. The buck of the gun in his hands was too familiar, and the sight of the bullet tearing through flesh was one that made his eyes brighten. And it shouldn’t. He was a monster. The screams of his brother echoed through his mind as he dropped the gun, turned and ran._

He woke in a cold sweat, speaking quickly in Russian, his heart pounding. His hands were shaking, his eyes wide. Then there were hands on his back. “It’ll be okay, come on, lay back down.” Coaxed Clint softly, pulling on his shoulder. He was shaking, he realised numbly, as he curled up on his side. Clint wrapped himself around Vladimir, mumbling softly in his ear and petting his hair. He didn’t sleep the rest of that night.

The next night went much the same as the one before, but Vladimir can’t wake up.

_He’s surrounded by mirrors, and each one is splattered with blood. He looked into them, but all he can see is His headless body, and he tries to escape, tries to smash them, but he can’t, he’s trapped and his brothers voice is whispering “It’s all your fault, all your fault, this is all your fault” and he screams because he can’t get out._

He wakes up with a scream, shaking, and then he slides out of bed, pacing, as Clint watched on with worry. He doesn’t know how long Vladimir can handle this. He’s starting to debate getting him therapy, but he knows Vlad won’t take it. He pads quietly over to him, tugging him into a hug, burying his head into the taller man’s shoulder. He feels hot tears hit his hair. With a quiet sigh, he lets him cry, knowing that it’ll help. He pulls away after a second to press a light kiss to his lips. It tastes like salt. He leads Vladimir back to their bed and curls up beside him.

_He blinks his eyes open, and it takes him a second to realise where he is. He’s in the prison. He turns to his left to look to his brother, but he’s not there. There’s two bodies instead of just one. It’s oddly silent, until the guards come, and they drag him away. There’s no point fighting. He’s gone, so what’s there to struggle for? Nothing. He’s dragged into that room, the one that’s covered in blood. He’s tied to the table, face down, and he knows exactly what’s going to happen. He jolts at the leather hits his back_

And then he’s jolting awake, his body twitching. Clint woke with him, pulling him close. He’s used to this by now, even if Vlad neve tells him what he dreams about. He’s crying again, and Clint’s crying too. The thought of kicking Vladimir out never once occurred to him. Why would it? It’s not like it’s Vladimir’s fault. The sound of him speaking cut Clint quickly from his thoughts. “I’m sorry” He whispered, and Clint reached up to wipe a tear from his cheek. “It’s okay, idiot, I love you” Vladmiir paused, and then he said “I love you too”

It was the best he’d slept all week.

_Blood was dripping from his hands, his lips, his eyes, his nose, everywhere, and it hurt. It was hurting him, and his brother was watching, laughing at him. “You deserve this” He crowed, as blood poured down his throat. He was choking, and his brother was sitting in a chair, laughing._

He woke with a small noise of fear, but luckily he didn’t wake Clint. He slowly untangled himself from Clint and pulled on a shirt, leaving the room quietly. He slid out of the tower and was greeted by several cats, making him smile. He made his way back to his safe-house, and ends up picking nine cats, putting him in his shirt and on his shoulders and carrying them and even having to have two following him. He slides back into the room, letting the cats in, and then pulling off his shirt and climbing back into bed. He’s joined by three of his cats, while the others set themselves up to sleep in other places. It’s the first time he’s slept without a nightmare in two weeks.

Clint wakes up to a cat on his chest, purring, and a softly snoring Vladimir. He grinned, settling back down. He’d had no idea that Vlad was so close with the cats, but, as he looks around, he counts at least eight, nine including the one on top of him. He lets Vlad sleep for a few more hours, and then shakes him awake. “Morning sunshine” He mumbled to Vlad’s confused, sleepy expression. He looked so cute like this, it was hard to believe he had ever looked even remotely threatening. He grumbled and shifted closer, nuzzling Clint’s hair. “mm sleepin’” He mumbled, throwing an arm around his waist. Clint laughed. “Vlad, we need to get up” All this earned was a whine and a shake of his head.

After a moment, Vladimir made a noise of consideration. “You have car, yes?” He asked slyly. “Yes… I have a car…” Clint turned his head to look at Vladimir curiously. “And you have keys?” Clint hummed, nodding. Vlad got out of bed. “Put on clothes.” He demanded, tugging on his own shirt and a pair of jeans. “Bring keys” Then he was gone, making sure to keep all of the cats in the room.

When Clint got to the garage, Vladimir was waiting, bouncing on his toes. After being led over to Clint’s car, he held out his hand for the keys, which Clint dropped into his hands, and then motioned for Clint to get into the car. When they were both in the car, Vlad switched it on and pulled out of the garage. When they were out, Vlad shot Clint a sly look and slammed on the gas, making the car leap forward. He changed the gears smoothly, and when Clint glanced at the speedometer it read just over one-hundred mph. He was clinging to the seat, his knuckles white. “Vlad, we should slow down.” He was answered with a shake of his head and the car revving as they hit 200. They were coming to a corner now, and Clint had no idea how they were going to make it round.

Vladimir slammed on the breaks, drifting around the corner with a whoop. Clint was clinging to the handle on the roof, eyes wide. It was terrifying, but totally worth it to see Vlads grin.

When they pulled back into the tower, Clint was panting, and Vlad looked very pleased with himself. “You have good car.” He told Clint as he unbuckled his seatbelt. Clint nodded shakily, getting out of the car. “We are never doing that again” He said to Vlad’s sly smirk. “Asshole” He mumbled as he walked past, but was pulled back by his waist and into Vladimir’s chest. He squeaked, squirming and trying to get free to no avail. Vlad’s arms were wrapped around his stomach and he was nuzzling his neck, making him squirm more. “Vlad! Let me go!” He said, trying to sound serious. It just made the taller man chuckle. They both knew that if Clint really wanted to get free he could.

It had taken him by surprise when he found out that Vlad actually loved cuddling. They could fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed and Clint would wake up with their legs tangled together and his back pressed up against Vladimir’s front. It happened a lot, and Clint loved it. He laughed a little as he was lifted into the air, kicking his legs a bit.

After a moment, he was put down and spun around so they were facing each other. They were both smiling. After a moment, they both pulled away, Vladimir blushing as he turned away. “We should eat.” He mumbled. “Yeah…” Clint said, following him upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it this far, and remember to leave a Kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> -Dan


End file.
